Garden of May

***

“Were you crying?”

She hastily wiped the tears that had tracked down her cheeks. Lost in thought, she hadn’t even noticed his approach. Or perhaps, the lazy maids had simply neglected to announce their master’s return. Louise Winchester remained seated at her vanity, accepting her husband’s kiss.

“How are the children?”

“The twins are as healthy as ever. Beautiful, just like you.”

Just like you. And beautiful. Louise felt the sharp barbs hidden within her husband’s words. He was always like this; whether offering praise or blame, he never relinquished the blade he held.

Louise stared at her reflection in the mirror, a strange distance between them. Her cascading red hair, which reached her waist, and her green eyes were still captivating, despite the passage of time. Though lately, the ever-present worry had etched faint lines around her eyes. She sighed.

“Don’t joke.”

“Do you think I’m joking?”

Marquess Winchester chuckled, kissed the nape of his wife’s neck once more, and turned towards the console. His movements as he picked up the whiskey decanter were precise and economical. Louise watched his back with a flicker of unease.

“Cece visited this morning.”

“That’s nice. You should have gone to the department store together.”

“I should have. But for some reason, I just wasn’t in the mood today.”

Winchester loosened his cravat and let out a sudden laugh.

“They say women get melancholic when their children are about to marry. I never thought my wife would be one of them.”

“Good heavens, Henry. It’s not like that. I’m so relieved that Blair has finally settled down.”

“He’s always wanted only one thing, ever since he was a boy. I always suspected you’d eventually cave to his stubbornness.”

Louise tried to mask her shock, but to little avail. The sudden pallor of her face was unmistakable. The Marquess took a slow sip of his whiskey, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t understand why you dislike Vanessa so much.”

“You know why. Her reputation…”

“Vanessa is a good girl. We both know that.”

“…That’s not the point.”

Louise anxiously chewed her lip, studying her husband’s expression. A thin line of blood appeared on her crimson-painted lips just as the Marquess moved. He used his thumb to part her tightly pressed lips.

“You’re bleeding, Louise.”

“Let me go. I’m really not in the mood today.”

Before she could finish her refusal, her words were swallowed by his kiss. Her skirts were lifted, her undergarments and garter belt removed. After a few half-hearted attempts to push him away, Louise gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck. She knew from experience that when he was like this, cooperation was the quickest route to its end. S3x, in these moments, was more akin to punishment.

“Oh, Henry…”

His fingers probed her wet heat. He narrowed his eyes, a cruel amusement in their depths.

“I thought you said no.”

“Yes, but please, just hurry…”

“You’re not quite wet enough. Hold onto the table.”

Louise obeyed, gripping the edge of the table as her skirts were bunched around her waist. The Marquess paused, admiring her for a moment before his hand came down hard on her bare bottom.

A sharp cry escaped her lips. Louise just wanted it all to be over. Henry, in these moments, wasn’t the tender husband she knew but a tyrant. Shame washed over her, making it impossible to think clearly.

How did it come to this?

Looking back, the beginning of her misfortune was clear. The night of the masquerade ball, at twenty years old, consumed by jealousy after learning that the man she had long adored had proposed to her closest friend. Drunk and high, she confessed her hidden feelings to him, forgetting, in her inebriated state, that she was already betrothed to Henry.